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The nun Satou found master Kaimu and said, “From wry
master Bawan I learned that caching is an iron cannon:
seductive to touch, easy to load, difficult to aim, and
deadly to mishandle.”

Kaimu replied, “Our ten fingers are flint and steel,
and the keyboard is our fuse.”

The nun continued, “From unhappy master Banzen I learned that such weapons should only be used reluctantly: after long study
if possible, after ignominious defeat if not.”

Kaimu replied, “The soldier who has lost two fingers will
not misplace the other eight so quickly. It is his comrade
with a full set of digits that will soonest lack a limb.”

The young nun shivered and said, “Thus I fear caching. And
having no time for careful study, I wish to avoid it and all
tools that use it. How can this best be done?”

Kaimu replied, “Store no data: not in a file, nor a
database, nor in the most transient of variables. For what
is each datum but a single frozen echo of the Unceasing
Chorus of the Outside World? When we chip a note from the
ice, what proof do we have that it is still being sung
beyond our silicon walls? Even the most inconsequential
User Preference should be obtained from the User directly
whenever needed, to be certain we have divined their will.”

The nun arched an eyebrow. “I sought Kaimu’s help because I
wished to avoid error. Why does the master mock me?”

Kaimu grasped her thumb and said, “You sought Kaimu’s help
because you wished to avoid losing an arm. Yet take heart,
soldier! One of your two fingers is already gone.”